


To All The Boys I Loved Before

by spotified



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Another fake dating AU, But I swear it's really fluff!, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, JYP Nation Ensemble, M/M, another high school au, because youngfeel is too underrated, maybe a teensy bit angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-15 23:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17538539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotified/pseuds/spotified
Summary: “My letters are my most prized possessions. I write them when I have a crush so intense, I don’t know what else to do. There are five in total.”Wonpil writes a letter whenever he feels a crush so intense. Nobody ever sees them, and none of his crushes has ever read them. Except one day, when Wonpil finds the school’s most popular athlete standing in front of his doorstep, his letter on his hand.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> rewritten version of an earlier story i had here, but is now youngfeel-centric because this ship is just too underrated. this story contains setting inaccuracies, so be warned. it will not follow a very traditional "Korean" household and high school, and there will be mentions of some adult content, like alcohol, but nothing too serious or mature. 
> 
> enjoy and please leave a comment, i would appreciate it! <3

 

 

Wonpil likes to save things. Not necessarily the big and important ones like the environment or the endangered species of bees that he has learned in class, but the small and sometimes, silly things. Hidden in one of his many drawers are the postcards from the quaint bookstore down the alley in Cheongdam-dong, with photos of places he can only imagine of visiting and paperbacks equally as expensive. On a small shelf sitting atop his bed are vinyl records from a rundown vintage shop in Hongdae, even though he does not own a turntable to be able to play them. He does not own a guitar and prefers to play the piano, but he has guitar picks of all shapes and sizes mixed haphazardly with his school supplies.

Pens. Papers. Lyrics. Letters.

 

 _Love letters_.

 

Call him sentimental, but of all the things Wonpil saves, his love letters are his most prized possession.

They are not the kind that people would receive during White Day, or the kind of exhilarating love notes students would pass underneath their desks during class. They aren’t for him; in fact, no one has ever written him one. These are the letters Wonpil has written.

Not for himself, but for every boy he has ever loved — all five of them.

Words can be harder to communicate verbally, especially for someone like Wonpil, the quiet, queer boy from music club. When no one would listen to his voice, he turns to music and writes lyrics while never holding back. He pours his feelings out to them, because while music was meant to communicate, no one would ever know who they are for. They could be for anyone, for any occasion. Unlike these letters.

Wonpil pens every word from his heart and mind onto the crisp white pages of his stationery like they would never read it. Because they never will. Every secret thought, every careful observation, every word he wanted to say but never had the chance to do so, he writes them all in the letter. Feelings that can never be translated to more than words. And when he’s done, he seals it carefully, addresses it, and carefully saves it inside a teal gift box underneath his bed.

They are not love letters to profess his love for them, at least not in the strictest sense of the word. His letters are for moving on, for when he doesn’t want to be in love anymore. A closure, a goodbye. Because when he loves, it’s all-consuming, threatening to take over his whole being, and when he writes his letter, he learns to leave and let go. It is as if Wonpil is no longer being consumed.

After he writes his letter, he feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His first thought in the morning doesn’t have to be the boy he was enamored with anymore, and all the love songs he sings along to doesn’t have to be about him, or them.  His letters set him free — at least, that’s what they are supposed to do.

 

So Wonpil kept writing.

 

 

 

On most regular days, Wonpil does not simply sit idly during dinnertime. He is the star of their household, the life of their late dinner times with his quips and stories — that is, unless his younger brother Dowoon does not upstage him with another one of his jokes. Still, he knows his father loves hearing about his day while his older sister sits opposite him with a smile, and they would exchange small banters from across the table or secretly kick each other beneath the table until one of them accidentally hits their father.

Tonight was an exception, and the usually bright Wonpil sits quietly, his thoughts drowning in the current exchange between his father and Sungjin.

 

Everyone loves Park Sungjin.

 

At least, that’s what it feels like to Wonpil. His whole family might be in love with him, though he still finds it difficult to say who most of all, not when his presence has become a constant in their small household. His father adored him, perhaps because he responds enthusiastically to all his queries and laughs at his jokes — something his sons rarely ever do, or the fact that he learned he came from Busan and he has plenty of stories about the place that keep everyone on their toes. Regardless of the actual reason, it earned him an invitation to their nightly family dinner, where he would be so kind enough to help around prepare meals or clean the dishes.

Dowoon adored him even more and even Wonpil is convinced that he looks up to Sungjin more than he does with his own brother. Not that he can blame him for it; he would always be quick to offer his help when Dowoon finds himself struggling with his math homework and Wonpil could not exactly be bothered because he is just as busy with his own. Or the fact that he would always listen with a smile whenever Dowoon explains the latest videogames to him and would never say no to a quick game, even if he knows very well that he will be losing anyway. He has left an impression and a bond that even the usually quiet Dowoon finds himself seeking for his presence.

Then there’s Jieun.

The two of them sat side by side across him on the dining table, one of Sungjin’s arm slung comfortably on the back of her chair, their joyous laughter filling their usually quiet house. Before, Sungjin was just Sungjin. His childhood friend with whom he went to music camp with. Their neighbor who lives just down the hall. His class seatmate.

But as Wonpil steals glances at him, eyes low behind his long lashes and unkempt fringe, he is reminded that this Sungjin is now his sister Jieun’s  _boyfriend_.

Being the eldest of the three siblings, Jieun was left with the duty of being the responsible one. When their mother passed away and they had to relocate from Incheon to Seoul, she did not shed a tear — a stark contrast to Wonpil’s grief-stricken face. Transition did not come easily to their family, but she was strong and stood up for her two brothers, sometimes even for their own father. She is smart and headstrong, the type of girl that puts her studies above anything, but her family over everything, and Wonpil admires her for that. In fact, he admires her more than anyone else in the world.

So when Jieun came home one afternoon with the news of her and Sungjin finally dating, Wonpil was elated for her, but heartbroken for himself.

The dining room is brimming with chatter, voices mingling with the sound of metal against china bowls, and a particularly loud laughter from Jieun broke Wonpil’s reverie, her voice tinkling in his ears. She was busy making a wrap for Sungjin, who is engaged in a conversation with their father about the latest sports news. Everyone was caught up in their own little bubbles and even Wonpil found his attention focused solely on his food, until Dowoon speaks up.

“Hey, do you think dad would let us travel to America?” he asks no one in particular, his deep voice standing out. Wonpil meets his gaze, one eyebrow raised at his question, and his brother shrugs. It was not a challenge, but more of a consideration; kind of like an afterthought that both know would have no concrete answer. Their father elicits a chuckle.

“I don’t see why not. If your sister isn’t so busy with her studies, she can tour you around,” the older man retorts and flashes Jieun a smile, who in turn rolls her eyes playfully.

“You should practice your English-speaking skills now,” she quips, to which Sungjin cheekily replies with “As if you’re any better than us.”

A string of laughter quickly followed, and even Wonpil finds himself joining along. Though the thought of the trip seems far-off, perhaps even impossible, he does like the idea of having the chance to step foot outside of the country and just see the world. The farthest destination he has been to was Jeju Island, and it was in the middle of winter so he never had the proper opportunity to roam around. He has a lot more to see.

“Remember that matching Disney sweaters you got me and Dowoon two Christmas ago?” Wonpil asks and the smile on Jieun’s face is enough to tell him that she knows exactly what he is referring to. And he knows she will never forget it easily, not when the expensive sweaters cost her over two months of pay at the small coffee shop she worked part-time in before.

“We should wear that when we go to Disneyland.”

“And then eat at In-N-Out right after!” Dowoon adds, and they all erupt in laughter again at the remembrance of their silly holiday pact.

“Maybe Sungjin can even tag along. Right?” their father adds thoughtfully, to which the male nods, smile bright and almost expectant. 

“I’d love to go. I’m sure there won’t be any problem since you’re almost practically family to me.”

Jieun’s expression darkens, Wonpil observes, and her wide smile seems to have faltered at his words. He knows his sister like the back of his hand and the way her shoulders tensed tells him something is  _not_  quite right. She clears her throat a little too loudly, catching Sungjin’s attention who, without a doubt, caught on to her sudden change in behavior. He places a hand over hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. Wonpil notes the concerned expression on his face, his eyes clear and always full of emotions.

“Uh, yeah. But- I just… I think it would be difficult for Sungjin,” she shrugs. At this point, the smile on the male’s face is completely gone, replaced with confusion and perhaps hurt. Wonpil could not quite find a fitting term, if he has read it correctly.

Sungjin clears his throat before eliciting a chuckle – but it was dry, full of tension – just not the kind anyone would be used to hearing from him. He retracts his hand away from hers and reaches to the inside of his pocket, pulling out a neatly folded paper. When he opens it, it reads a two-way ticket to California. He offers it to Jieun, who takes it with caution. In contrast to him, her expression is unreadable and that means something is definitely  _not_  right.

“I already booked a ticket to California for Chuseok. I was hoping I can visit you while you’re in university,” he shrugs, the smile on his face tender but cautious. 

Jieun folds the ticket back and carefully sets it aside. “You should cancel these tickets.”

The whole room fell into a hushed silence. The rice bowl has never looked so interesting, Wonpil thinks, and even Dowoon is aware of it that he starts chewing his food a little too loudly.

Jieun sighs, standing up.

“Sungjin, can we talk?”                                          

 

 

 

Wonpil did not mean to overhear, not when their house is relatively small and the only private place the two could go into is their living room right after everyone has quietly dispersed into their respective rooms. Or the fact that Jieun did not even try to lower her voice as Sungjin begged, almost hysterical. They were arguing, he can tell, and things weren’t looking quite positive.

So when Jieun lies down beside him later that night, he wasn’t too surprised with the news.

“We broke up,” she speaks out of nowhere, tone bordering on casual. There was no hint of guilt or sadness, not even regret. Wonpil looks up from the notes he was writing, eyes wide with both concerns and confusion. Not a word was spoken, and he thinks he has been quiet for a beat too long, but as he observes his sister’s calm expression, he is quick to notice that her eyes are not red or swollen – which means she didn’t cry.

Wonpil closes his notebook, tucking it safely in his bedside drawer, before lying down and wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. “Why though?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it was time.”

Anyone who would look at Jieun at that time would think she was fine. Because she was always fine, even when she’s not. Except, Wonpil knows his sister more than anyone else in the world and he can tell that there are more thoughts in her mind that she would let on.

“I don’t see why you had to break up,” he said. “Just because you’re going to college, it doesn’t mean you have to break up.”

Jieun smiles at his words, before she turns to him, head propped on one hand as she looks at her brother with an expression Wonpil couldn’t quite decipher. One hand was gently caressing his soft locks and if it weren’t for her next words, he would have allowed sleep to overtake him. “Kim Wonpil, I’m going to University of California, not SNU. That’s nearly five thousand miles away.”

She must have noticed the sudden change in his expression, because she was quick to defend herself. “Really, what’s the point?”

Wonpil could not quite believe what he was hearing. He lets go of his hold around her and sits himself straight on his mattress. “The point is, it’s Sungjin. He’s perfect for you and he loves you more than any man has ever loved you – except dad, of course. No one can compete with dad.”

Jieun does chuckle at his words and playfully pinches him on his side, before diving inside his duvet and making himself comfortable on his bed. It was quiet between them, with only the sound of their breathing echoing in the dimly lit room.

“You know,” Jieun begins. “Mom told me not to go to college with a boyfriend.”

“I wouldn’t remember, I was nine when she passed away…”

Sadness passes over her expression and she pats the space next to her, and he lies down, the two of them huddled underneath the warmth of his blanket. Jieun pulls the duvet over his body until it reached his chin and she nuzzles herself closer to him. “Mom said I’m better off not crying over the phone because me and my boyfriend can’t trust each other enough. Or frustrating myself with needing to ask for his permission for everything.”

Jieun has always been the strong and forward kind, that he knows well about his sister. She has never liked being boxed and loves her independence, and perhaps going to California is her way of stepping out, of showing that there is more for him out there than there is in tiny South Korea. Never did it occur to him that it also meant letting go of the most important man in her life other than him and Dowoon.

 “Sungjin would never hold you back though. He has always been your biggest supporter. Remember that time when you said you wanted to start a bake sale and he literally went around to sell your goods for you? He even begged me to buy one of your brownies!”

The memories were vivid to him. There was fondness, laughter… things he would always cherish, just as he knows Jieun would. Sungjin was a big part of his life – of their lives – and he would have never thought his sister would be quick to cut him off, to let him simply fade away in the background of their lives. But this was a crossfire between chasing her dreams and staying rooted, and it became clear to Wonpil that Sungjin is not a part of Jieun’s dreams, of her future.

“He will never hold you back… never.”

The corner of Jieun’s lips curves downward and a soft, almost inaudible sigh slips past her. “I know.”

“But –”

“But I’m okay,” she reassurs him, or at least tries to. Because Wonpil knows she’s not okay, not when the smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was that moment of vulnerability that he knows her feelings for Sungjin would always linger, like a small papercut that couldn’t be seen but could be felt so strongly.

“You can always get back together again, you know.”

He would have done anything to convince his sister otherwise, but when Jieun turns her back to him, Wonpil knows the conversation is done, that she is done. And when Jieun says she’s done, there really is no going back.

“Turn the lights off before you sleep, will you?”

Silence fell between the two of them again; Jieun with her slumber and Wonpil with his thoughts. His sister rarely sleeps in his room after he entered high school, but nowadays, she drifts in and out of his brothers’ room, sharing their last hugs and cuddles as the time ticked by slowly to the day. There were so many things running through his mind, words he wished he could have said – not just to his sister, but most of all, to Sungjin. But he allows sleep to overtake him, his face pressed comfortably on Jieun’s back.

 

 

 

When Wonpil sees Jieun the following morning, his sister was lounging at the breakfast bar, a bowl of kimchi fried rice half uneaten as she busily scrolls through his phone. Much to his surprise, she was wearing a calm and seemingly enthused expression, a far cry from what he expected after the recent events. There were no hints of remorse or guilt on the older girl’s face and neither of them mentioned anything about their conversation the night before even though it left a nagging feeling at the back of Wonpil’s head.

It was as if everything was just…  _normal_. Perfect as they can be.

Jieun, however, was quick to catch on her brother’s thoughts. Wonpil was brooding, she can tell from the way he forgot to greet her a good morning, or how he quietly poured himself a cup of hot coffee instead of his favorite glass of orange juice that he usually drinks before they head off to school. It’s never hard to read him — not when Wonpil has the most expressive set of eyes he has seen, or the fact that they have known each other since they were kids and has stuck together, the three siblings having no one else but each other’s backs. From what Jieun knows, he was probably not over what had happened, or what she has said, even though she made it clear that her words are final.

Today, she would make sure of that.

“Don’t overthink what happened,” she began. “What’s done is done.”

Wonpil looks up from his breakfast, confusion briefly flashing through his features, before it finally dawns on him what Jieun was referring to. He sighs, hand lowering his hold on his spoon. “Dad is going to feel upset. Heck, possibly even Dowoon might feel upset!”

Jieun raises an eyebrow at him. “So am I supposed to stay with Sungjin just because of them?”

He can only shrug at the question. He already knows the answer, and the tone lacing Jieun’s voice has finality in it. And his sister was right; at the end of the day, they have the least say on what she should do with her life, let alone her boyfriend. It wouldn’t change a thing, at least that’s what he had hoped for. Jieun pointed out that Sungjin would eventually stop coming once she leaves for college, a thought that never occurred to him because he always comes by even before they started dating. He can still be a friend, and they can settle for a new normal.

Except, normalcy came in the form of exchanging brief hello’s with Sungjin on the hallways, silence and small chatter inside the elevators, and an empty seat on their usually full dinner table.

 

Things eventually began to go back to the routine Wonpil knew of, despite the absence of a certain someone, or the slow ticking of time to Jieun’s departure. He had spent the last few weeks of his summer accompanying his sister to and from the department store, purchasing items to bring to California, or hanging out in his room, playing his keyboard through the night. It was these moments that Wonpil knows he will miss the most, and before he knew it, he was standing at the airport, waving goodbye to his sister. He didn’t cry when Jieun didn’t look back as she walks through the gates; he knows she is not that type of person. But he did cry at home, the side of his bed feeling emptier than it usually is.

The first day of his senior year felt even more different. He had to take the bus alone for the first time and he felt smaller as he walks through the bustling hallways. Jieun’s old locker now belongs to a freshman, and while there were people who greeted him on the first day back, Wonpil couldn’t help but feel lonely.

It’s not that he is completely alone and friendless. There is Park Jaehyung, a boy he had met in his homeroom class in first year. The two of them were seatmates and Wonpil remembers fairly well how loud and crass the boy was, a stark contrast to his shy and timid self. He learned that he transferred from Los Angeles and although his pronunciation can sometimes be off, Wonpil found his company comforting, especially when Sungjin and Jieun began hanging out without him. Jaehyung — now fondly called Jae, became an addition to their little group. He coerced Wonpil to join him in music club after finding out his keyboard during one of their study sessions at home, and the guitarist has not left his side ever since.

They were always together and Jae has become one of his confidant that it did not take long for him to catch on the longing in Wonpil’s eyes when he noticed the empty seat on their usual cafeteria lunch table, a seat that would never be occupied anymore.

“So, how was summer?” Jae asks in his loud voice, before biting into his sandwich. Wonpil can only laugh; it was a question he has been asking for the past three years, and while Jae is aware of most of his activities because they send each other text messages regularly, he knows the male is hinting at something else.

“Busy,” he shrugs. “I never knew moving to college can be so tedious.”

Jae elicits a chuckle at his predicament and rambles on about his own experience of moving to Seoul during his freshmen year. Wonpil rolls his eyes playfully, having heard the story plenty of times, but what he did not expect is the joking yet solemn pat on his shoulder that came after. “I heard what happened.”

“You did?” At this point, Wonpil’s eyes were wide with surprise, though he tells himself he probably shouldn’t feel so strongly about it when Jae is a known friend to both Jieun and him. Jae offers him a small smile, one that looks like that of pity, and nudges his head to one direction. Wonpil’s gaze trails and lands on the table at the corner, Sungjin’s broad back clearly in his view.

“Jimin from your sister’s club told me,” Jae shrugs. What Wonpil knows, Jae would also know eventually due to his vast high school network and chatter, and even if the topic of his sister’s ex-boyfriend isn’t brought up, the fact that Sungjin wouldn’t sit with them during lunch would stir some questions. And while it was only the first day back, it already did, the way he would steal short glances at their way not escaping their notice.

All their thoughts at the moment, however, were replaced by the sudden hoots and cajoles coming from one side of the room, the high pitch laughter and deepset voices pointing out to the group of people Wonpil is completely unenthused with — the football team.

“Here comes our worst nightmare,” Jae rolls his eyes and busies himself with his food.

Wonpil never hates on people. In fact, he tries to stay away from things he should not involve himself with, preferring to mind his own business than deal with whatever drama high school brings. But for someone like him, who prefers his space and his peace, the athletes can be quite a handful. Everyone knows the team. They are popular, always travel in groups, and most especially,  _obnoxiously_  loud. Wonpil does not entirely mind on most days, as long as they stay away from the library — the only place he finds solace in. He even admits to admiring them, having given the school more honor and recognition than he thinks he ever could.

But one person always catches his eyes.  _Kang Younghyun_.

Almost a household name in their high school, everyone is well-aware of who Younghyun is — star player and overall pretty boy. And even Wonpil wouldn’t deny the flush of pink coloring the apple of his cheeks as he steals glances at him, noting how slimmer and seemingly taller the athlete looks after their short summer vacation. It was always easy for him to stand out, his fox-like eyes and sharp nose the usual talk of the hushed restroom exchanges. He is a presence so big, it would be hard not to notice him even in a crowded and noisy cafeteria. With his hair dyed back to black and his navy blue varsity jacket worn comfortably around his lean figure, Wonpil notes that not much has changed about him from the boy he met in seventh grade.

Though there he is now, sitting in the middle of the table that was unofficially dubbed to belong to the football team, stealing quick kisses with Min. Because wherever the football team goes, the cheerleading team follows.  

Wonpil glances away, hoping to not have been caught staring.

 

 

Kang Younghyun was his first kiss.

 

 

Wonpil and Younghyun used to be friends. At least, there was time when he wasn’t Kang Younghyun, striker and overall popular boy in high school. To 7th grader Wonpil, he was just Hyunie, his friend whom he would exchange notes with under the desk or eat lunch under the bleachers with. There was no Jieun, Sungjin, or even Jaehyung in the picture — it was just the two of them. And it’s not like they were best friends either, for that was a title reserved for his siblings. He was just there, a constant company, sometimes fleeting but always present.

He would always be a vivid memory for him, because he took an important first. Like any person who just entered middle school, everyone wanted to fit in; their young hearts were burning with fervor to do the things their younger selves would have never imagined, from sneaking out to falling in love. Except, Wonpil didn’t fall in love — at least, not with Younghyun.

It was just a kiss, he constantly reminds himself. It wasn’t even special, he remembers, as their small group of friends sat around an empty plastic bottle, excitement clouding their expressions as they wait for the bottle to stop spinning. And it did, pointing just at Wonpil.

“I choose dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Younghyun.”

Even if his face does not betray him, Wonpil knows how flustered he was, the heat creeping into his neck at the sudden dare. He looked up at the boy sitting across him, his eyes timid but gleaming with something he couldn’t quite grasp in that moment. Excitement? Fear? He wasn’t too sure himself, but he does remember him nodding his head, as if telling him that he was okay, that they’re friends and it wouldn’t change a thing. Boys can kiss other boys, like they do with girls.

And so he kissed him — short but sweet, and the two of them laughed it off like it was nothing.

But to Wonpil, it was special. And he couldn’t deny the small thump his heart made in that moment. Because then, he might have realized that he liked kissing him more than he thought, that girls do not make the butterflies in his stomach rage the way boys in his classes do.

 

But they’re not friends anymore. Him and Younghyun. While time doesn’t necessarily change people, it changes the surroundings. When they entered high school, the two of them found their own groups, Younghyun with his football team and Wonpil with Jaehyung and Jieun. Someone found out that he had kissed another boy in middle school and he had been the bait of jokes ever since. Not that he cares as much, when he has accepted it in himself that he does like boys. They drifted apart, not that they were ever ultimately close to begin with. It was if they just didn’t need each other’s company like they used to, not when there are other people they could run to, or the fact that their cliques were never meant to be together anyway.

Which is why Wonpil finds it odd when Younghyun slides into the empty seat beside him, lips curved into a wide smile.

“Hey.”

Wonpil flashes Jae a questioning look from where he is seated, before turning his attention to the football player and bowing his head in polite greeting. “Uh, hi.” Jae doesn’t reciprocate the pleasantries and instead, crosses his arms over his chest.

“What do you want, Kang?” he squints at him, trying to sound threatening but failing. “Leave my sandwich alone. You can take BamBam’s, his arms are too fragile to fight you off anyway.”

Younghyun’s expression warps into a sheepish smile, one hand scratching at the back of his neck. He lets the silence linger over them briefly, Jae’s eyes never breaking contact with his until he turns his head to look at Wonpil.

“So,” he starts, eyes darting between the two males. “The football team is having a back to school party the week after next for the seniors, and I was hoping you two can come.”

Wonpil finds himself blinking at the sudden invitation, one hand pointing at himself as if to make sure he heard his words correctly. After all, it’s not every day that he gets invited into these events. Everyone knows how exclusive the sports team are and for someone like Wonpil, who is in the bottom of the school hierarchy, an invitation is already a privilege. And he knows Jae was thinking along the same lines, because he slams his hand on the table, earning the attention of nearby students until Younghyun motions for them to scram.

“Why are you being so friendly all of a sudden?” Jae asks and Wonpil almost finds the situation funny. He can always count on his friend to be cautious for them, especially with his uncanny dislike for the athletic team’s behaviors. “Outsiders were never allowed to go to your unofficial events.”

 _Outsiders_. That’s what they are.

Younghyun opens his mouth to speak, but immediately closes it again. He ponders over his words for a moment and turns to Wonpil yet again, because he knows he would have been the more level-headed of the two. There was no mention of the term Jae just used, just a soft chuckle in exchange.

“No no, you got it all wrong. It’s for the seniors, so everyone in the year is invited to go.”

Wonpil and Jae exchange another look, and Younghyun leans in, hands clasped together expectantly and almost pleadingly. “Please tell me you’ll go. It’s our last year in high school, so you two should go out more and have fun. I promise, it will be worth it. I know Wonpil doesn’t like wasting his time on these things and I can promise Jaehyung that none of what he’s thinking is ever happening.”

Wonpil’s ears perk up at the mention of his name. He was right about him, but he wonders how he could have known when neither of them has spoken more than a few sentences to each other in the last three years. He’s too busy with his new peers, with football, that he couldn’t have paid attention to him. Moreover, the loud music and secret alcohol don’t entice him, and he would have turned down the invitation already if it weren’t for Younghyun’s almost expectant expression.

Still, he found himself nodding. “Sure, we’ll be there,” was his short but straightforward answer. Jae’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, but Wonpil is too focused on Younghyun, or how his face brightens and lips curves into a softer smile. He reaches out to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

 “I’ll see you around then.”

 

And just like that, he was gone again. 


	2. Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the positive responses so far!  
> enjoy the next one. <3

“Are you going out on a date?”

Wonpil almost jumps at the sudden question, one hand making its way over to his chest as if to calm his racing heart. He was too caught up in his own thoughts that he failed to notice Dowoon enter his room. The boy is now sitting on his bed, a quizzical look in his eyes as he stares at his older brother, who was busily rummaging through his closet just moments before.

“It’s not a date,” he answers. In fact, he’s wondering to himself why he is rushing to get himself dressed for an event he had not even thought of until this morning. The two weeks since Younghyun’s invitation passed by quickly, and with the semester’s routine settling in and their transition at home still in the middle, a party would have been the last thing in his mind. That is, until he received a message from Jaehyung asking him if they really are going. He admits to considering ditching it altogether, but every time he remembers Younghyun’s smiling face, he convinces himself it couldn’t be that bad.

Dowoon eyes his brother, expression somewhere in between confusion and conjecture. “What is it then?” Dowoon asks again as he makes himself more comfortable on his brother’s bed, a response that is telling that perhaps Wonpil does look half-decent if he can garner this much attention.

 

 “A party.”

 

 

 _Silence_.

 

 

And then Dowoon is laughing — first it was just a soft snort of disbelief, and when he realizes that Wonpil was serious and that he is indeed attending a _party_ , he bursts into fits of laughter, voice loud and clear. By the time he collected himself, he is holding his stomach tightly, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes from having laughed too much. That earns him a glare from Wonpil, whose arms are now crossed over his chest, ready to reprimand his younger brother.

 “You,” Dowoon begins, index finger pointing at the other male, “are going to a party? I can’t believe it! Are you even for real?”

“Yes, I am. And no, I am not kidding.” Wonpil turns back to his closet, taking out a darkly washed pair of jeans and a blue sweater to go with it. He was about to go to the bathroom to change when he felt the shirt being snatched from his hands. Dowoon was looking at him, an incredulous expression all over his face.

“You’re going to wear a lousy, knitted sweater to a party? Hyung, that’s social suicide!” his younger brother almost screams before throwing the shirt back into the closet. Wonpil would have gotten mad and tackled the younger male, but the next moment, he finds a new pair of clothes being thrown into his arms before he is being shoved into his bathroom. When he came out, he was wearing the pants he chose himself, but instead of the sweaters he usually goes for, here he is, standing in front of the full-length mirror, a white cotton shirt beneath a black casual coat he has forgotten he owns. He looks… _well-put_ , that he feels almost unrecognizable in his own shoes.

Dowoon, on the other hand, was nodding to himself happily, satisfied at what he did. “You’re welcome.”

Wonpil elicits a laugh at that — but there was no malice or teasing in it; just pure fondness. He ruffles his brother’s hair before engulfing him in a tight hug, and he responds with a groan of protest, though Wonpil can tell that Dowoon is smiling into it. Maybe if Jieun was here, the two of them wouldn’t be having this moment, and Wonpil is glad — glad that he could at least still count on his brother. So many things have changed in such a short span of time and he knows many more will, but Dowoon… Dowoon is still here.

“Thanks buddy, I owe you one.”

“No problem, hyung. Now go enjoy.”

 

 

The varsity’s welcome party was held in the more prominent area of the town. Wonpil doesn’t know to whom the house belongs to, but judging from the high ceilings and spacious backyard, he can tell it must be from one of the wealthier players, like Mark Tuan. And like what Younghyun said, every senior was invited, so the place was packed. There were people enjoying themselves on the makeshift dancefloor in the living room, while some were lounging around comfortably, drinks in their hands. The rest of the varsity was playing at the pool table, while those who had more liquid confidence were making use of the lavish pool.

He was hiding in the kitchen with the ruse of getting more drinks, but the truth is, he doesn’t really know what to do. While he and Jaehyung arrived together, the other male was pulled aside by people from some club, leaving Wonpil by himself. The place felt almost suffocating, unfamiliar, and too loud that for a moment, he thought about leaving before the night becomes deeper.

That was until he felt someone tapping his shoulder, and when he turned, he was surprised to see Younghyun.

“Hey, I’m glad you came!”

He was smiling so widely and so brightly that it left him in a daze and Wonpil — Wonpil wouldn’t deny the small fluttering in his stomach, even more so when he complimented him. Unusual, but he would take what he can get any day.

“You look great tonight,” he nods, a hand fleeting to fix his jacket. It went by too quickly that he wouldn’t have noticed it if he weren’t paying attention and before he could even process it properly, his hand was back inside the pocket of his navy blue varsity jacket. Younghyun looks the way he usually does, sporting the jacket that tells of his stature as a football player and skinny blue jeans that show off his athletic figure. Wonpil wonders how someone can look so effortlessly _good_.

He smiles at him in return, hoping the small blush on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “And so do you. I mean, you always look nice anyway.”

Younghyun raises an eyebrow at his words. “So you think I always look good?”

Wonpil belatedly realizes what he had just implied, that he has been checking him out even though it most certainly is not the case. He tries to find the words to defend himself, but they weren’t coming, and Younghyun just chuckles.

“You’re still cheeky,” he quips, but before Wonpil could even respond, Min is at his side, fingers laced with his as she pulls him away. He was left with a soft “See you around” before he was completely out of his sight again.

 

 

As the hours passed, the music became louder and the house even warmer, and Wonpil finds himself sitting alone on the patio stairs, empty red cup in his hand. The breeze blew cold and he felt himself shiver slightly in his coat, but he still feels content at the fresh fall smell, a far cry from the sweat and alcohol clouding the packed house. When Jieun told him that senior year is important, all he prepared for were the countless sleepless nights that were about to come over college entrance examinations. Never did he expect he’d be where he is, the lingering taste of alcohol minors should not consume on his lips and adrenaline flowing through his system.

As much as he wants to go back inside, Wonpil is enjoying the solitude. It was his element; his space where he can have all his thoughts to himself, but it was also a time where his mind could become so overwhelming that it leaves him in a daze. At times like this, he misses his sister the most. It hasn’t been long since she has moved, but her absence and everything else she had left behind caused a huge gap in his life. It was different, being the oldest and having the responsibility of keeping their family intact, and tonight is an escape.

It was also at times like this where the butterflies in his stomach flutter so dangerously at the sound of a voice — _his_ voice, one that he knew so well that his heart was almost attuned to it.

 

“I knew I’d find you here.”

 

Before he can even respond, Sungjin was sitting next to him, so close that he can feel the warmth radiating off him. He still smells like summer, like a fragrance that conjures the sunny day at the beaches or the warm mountain breeze, and it puts him at ease. They sit there in familiar silence, comfortable but full of unspoken words, neither of them unsure on where to begin. It wasn’t like Wonpil was fraternizing with the enemy, but he hasn’t spoken a single word with Sungjin since he and his sister broke up. Whenever they bump into each other, their exchanges are always limited to simple nods that he couldn’t quite grasp where the two of them lie now.

And Sungjin — Sungjin seems to know exactly what is going on in his mind right in that moment.

“You know, just because Jieun and I aren’t together anymore, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me.”

He sounds jokingly bitter at the thought. Wonpil whips his head in surprise, mouth opening and then closing as he tries to find the right words but failing to do so. He mulls over his thoughts — mostly of Jieun, of what she will say, and what she would have done if she were him.

“I’ll still talk to you, maybe just not in public.”

Under the bleary patio lights illuminating them, he could see a small smile forming over his lips. He was quiet for a few moments, the muffled sound from the party the only thing blaring in the otherwise serene background.

“Did she tell you that she was going to do it?” He whispers, and even though it was a mere inquiry, Wonpil can still sense a hint of sadness in his voice. He knows Jieun always tells him everything, but this time, neither of them were prepared. There were no warning signs, no preface. So when he notices his hesitation, he just sighs.

“Honestly, Sungjin, I didn’t know about a thing. I promise.”

Sungjin was absorbing his words, he can tell from the way his left leg is moving, or how he fiddles with his own cup. “Maybe she’ll change her mind. That’s possible, right?”

For what seemed to be the second time that night, Wonpil finds himself at a loss for words. He wants to say yes because he wants to give him a sliver of hope, but knows it would break him even more if it was nothing but an empty set of promised words. He could have said no, but he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his disappointment and allows the silence to speak in his stead. Sungjin seems to understand what he was conveying.

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. When Jieun makes up her mind, she doesn’t go back on it.”

“You never know though.”

Sungjin smiles at him; it was a silent thank you, for comfort. And then he was moving closer to him, his shoulder bumping into his. Wonpil notes just how warmer it feels to be sitting so close to him.

“Can I still hang out with you?” he asks.

“Me and Jaehyung?

“And your family too.” Wonpil smiles at this.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he reassures him.

Although things would never be back to the way they were, this could be their new normal. Where Sungjin can go back to simply being his friend with whom he can talk with over lunch or watch movies over the weekends with, because the butterflies in his stomach were so much easier to subdue then.

Sungjin moves closer to him, his side pressed comfortably on his as he lets her eyes flutter close and breathes in the night air. “Great, because I don’t think I can bear to lose you too.”

He reaches out and gives Sungjin’s hand a gentle squeeze, one of comfort, a gentle reminder that he would always be beside him. Although Wonpil knows that his words carry a different meaning and they were not what he had hoped to be, the butterflies in his stomach continues to rage a storm.

 

 

Sungjin joins him for lunch the following day, the first time the two of them have sat together since the beginning of the new school year. The cafeteria noise blurs into the background once he and Sungjin settle into a conversation, laughing over the mishap in his chemistry laboratory class, or how Wonpil’s homeroom teacher forgot their own class that morning. And just like the old times, Sungjin brings him a small milk box — strawberry flavored, his favorite. As soon as Sungjin offers it to him, he can feel his heart pause and he forgets to breathe. Just for that that one second, he feels dizzy, and as quickly as it came, the feeling, the strange flutter in his chest is gone.

And Jaehyung arrives, but not before passing a confused glance between the two.

“That’s my seat,” he nods in Sungjin’s direction. “I always sit opposite of Wonpil. _Always_.”

The male raises a hand in surrender and moves his lunch box, and makes himself comfortable next to Wonpil. Jaehyung slides into the plastic chair with ease, lunch tray clicking loudly on the hard tabletop. He wore an expression Wonpil couldn’t quite decipher in the moment, but the way the corner of his lips is upturned tells him something is going on. And he can always rely on him to divulge almost anything.

“Kang Younghyun and Min broke up.”

The two other males look up from their food, one wearing an expression clearly of confusion, the other completely blank. “And you’re telling us this because…?”

“Because we dislike Kang Younghyun and his stupidly good-looking face!” Jaehyung states, fists curled into balls as he slams them on the table in jest.

That earns him a chuckle from Wonpil, who shakes his head in disagreement. “I never said I dislike him.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He rolls his eyes, before he leans forward and continues speaking, voice low. “I heard Min dumped him last night during the party. The goss is that she met some hot dude from SNU, but my bet is she’s been cheating on him all summer.”

It was never in his nature to meddle with other people’s affairs. In fact, he would have been out of the loop with what’s happening if it weren’t for Jaehyung, who seems to know everyone and has the latest intel on pretty much everything. He would have been quick to brush it off, yet he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Younghyun in that moment, especially that he has to deal with the onslaught of gossip following him. Maybe being popular isn’t always a good thing.

Sungjin pipes into the conversation, though his voice sounds mildly disinterested. “I’m sure he’ll find someone new fast. That’s how the athletes are, always dating around.”

“That was still mean of her to do though.”

When Wonpil’s gaze darts to Jaehyung, he is met with a look that is almost a cross between surprise and disbelief. “Kim Wonpil, are you _defending_ Kang Younghyun?”

“No! I was simply stating what’s on my mind.”

Jaehyung scoffs. “Yeah, one that is in favor of him! How could you?”

This time, even Sungjin joins in on the banter. Wonpil, for one, knows that he is one of the few people who has never shown any interest on the football team, or any other business that isn’t his. He had Jieun to keep him company, and with the two of them always together, there was no need to concern themselves with others. But he also knows that Sungjin, once provoked, would do anything to make fun of him — what two good friends’ exchanges are like.  

“Don’t tell me your crushing on him now?”

Wonpil does not utter a word and instead, lowers his gaze. He just wants the whole conversation to be done with, but Sungjin takes his silence as a sign of something else. Even Jaehyung points an accusing finger at him.

“Wait, you have a _crush_ on Kang?”

“What? No!” Technically not _now_. Wonpil has had crushes before, boys and girls from kindergarten and second-grade who lent him their pencils or sat with him on the swings. He fell easily — almost _too_ easily, but none of them were ever serious; more like fleeting romances, bubbles that easily burst. Kang Younghyun is another story.

“Okay, maybe I thought he was cute, but that was in seventh grade.”

Sungjin practically gags. “Kang? Are you kidding me? I thought you’d be into someone more… I don’t know, like you? Down to earth and easygoing. Kang Younghyun is such a cliché. He’s like the poster boy of a ‘cool guy’ in a movie about high school, but came to life and is in HD.”

Jaehyung shakes his head while muttering ‘wow’ under his breath, and Wonpil can only shrug. “In hindsight, he used to be different. Still the Younghyun we know, but less so.”

His friends still look unconvinced, so he quickly adds, “You both like girls, so you wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand.”

“Great, now eat your damn kimbap, Jae.”

 

 

Sungjin eats dinner with their family the night after.

Although there is still an empty seat at the end of their dining table, Sungjin fills the absence well with flowing conversations between him and Wonpil’s father. It makes Dowoon so happy that begins to talk more animatedly as well, eyes lighting up when Sungjin asks him about the new drum pad he had gotten, and Wonpil knows that he couldn’t be happier at the thought of Sungjin finally spending time with them again. The meal was nothing too elaborate and as usual, but Sungjin asks for three helpings of the kimchi stew, which makes his father more than elated.

There were times when the conversation would drift too close to the mention of Jieun and it would make Sungjin stiffen, something that did not escape both Wonpil and Dowoon’s notice. The younger male takes it upon himself to divert the conversation and engages the male in a hot debate over the latest installment of a movie they both mentioned seeing a while back. And as usual, Sungjin helps with the dishes after. Except this time, there was no Jieun to be his partner. Just him and Wonpil.

 

“Hey, do you want to catch a movie this weekend?” Sungjin asks later that night, when the three of them are settled quietly in the living room, the television playing some American movie Wonpil wasn’t even paying attention too. Dowoon’s ears perk up and he sits up on the couch.

“Yes!”

Wonpil sends him a glare. “No, Dowoon. We can’t. We promised dad we’ll help him clean up and sort Jieun’s stuff to donate to Goodwill Korea.”

“But—”

He sends his younger brother another look, one that has finality in it. “No buts.”

“If Jieun were here, she would have said yes, even for a few hours.”

“Yeah, but she isn’t here, so you have to listen to me.”

Dowoon groans and throws a pillow at him, before standing up and making his way to his room. He made sure to shut the door with a loud thud, enough to make his point come across, and Wonpil can only offer Sungjin an apologetic look.

“Sorry about that. We’d love to go, but we really can’t.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine, I understand. You’re trying to be the responsible one now.”

Wonpil smiles at that, albeit a sad one. The fact that he has to step up and fill in his sister’s shoes is a constant reminder of her absence, and of all nights, he misses her more than usual. No one can run a household perfectly like Jieun, yet he’s trying for her.

“You’re a good brother.” Sungjin smiles at him. “You’re not like your sister, but that’s not a bad thing, because you’re you. You’re kind and caring, and heck, I’ll admit that maybe if I haven’t met Jieun… it would have been you.”

Sungjin does not stay long after, but when he leaves, he seems more comfortable, more at ease. Before he opens the front door, he turns around and says to him, “I don’t know what I would have done if you never talk to me again after… after Jieun dumped me.”

Despite the hazy glow of the incandescent light, Wonpil does not fail to notice the blush that blooms across his face, or the mirth in his eyes, hidden by each long lash. “You keep me going, Wonpil.”

Sungjin gives him a quick, fierce hug, and then he’s gone. But not his warmth, or his voice, or the words that keeps on lingering in the back of his mind. In that moment, he felt it all — every memory, every moment they have shared. The thought flies though his head, so quickly and unexpectedly, that he could not help himself from thinking: if he were Wonpil’s, he would have never broken up with him, not in a million years.

 

 

Wonpil thought he was over him.

When he first wrote him his letter, he said his goodbyes and he meant it. It was never hard, not when all he can think of his how much Jieun likes him, how much she cares. He cannot, and will not, ever begrudge his own sister. She had sacrificed so much for him and Dowoon, always putting other people first before her own happiness. Sungjin is her happiness and letting him go is his way of putting his sister first.

But lying down on his bed now, alone, all he can think of is Park Sungjin. These are the thoughts that make him feel downright traitorous, because his sister is now nine thousand miles away and even though it has been less than three weeks, he had caved in so easily. He covets for his love so hard and it makes him feel like the greatest betrayer — the one who puts his own selfish needs above his own sister.

And there is only one thing he can do. He supposes he can write him another letter, a postscript with as many pages as it takes, so long as it diminishes whatever feelings he has left for him. He decides to put it all away to rest, once and for all. So he takes a crisp white paper and begins to write.

 

_Park Sungjin,_

_I liked you first. By all rights, you were mine. And if it had been me, I would have stayed. I would have never left you, not for anything. Because you deserved so much more than tears and longing, than distance and broken heart._

_And I still love you._

_I still love you and that’s a really huge problem for me. All this time, I thought I was over it. I thought I was over you. But how could I not be, when it’s Jieun you love? It has always been Jieun._

_Love always and all ways,_

_Wonpil._

 

 

 

The weekend comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and before Wonpil knows it, another Monday dawns on him. He feels refreshed, his feelings all sorted out, and he looks forward to lunch that day, knowing that Sungjin would be sitting with him and Jaehyung again.

However, neither of them shows up, so he finds himself sitting by the bleachers alone, packed lunch sitting warmly on his lap as he waits for someone. He has his earphones on, a pop track blasting through the speakers, and he was deep in his own world when he felt a hand tapping his shoulder.

 

Kang Younghyun was the last person he expected to see there.

 

But what confused him even more is the somber expression gracing his features, a far cry from his usual smiling and jovial self. He doesn’t speak for a while too, despite his talkative self, and Wonpil can only wonder what business he has that he went through the trouble of finding him in the bleachers, a place way out of the cafeteria’s way.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, voice uncertain. Wonpil shrugs; it’s not like he has a choice. It was just the two of them, and it’s not as if he was waiting for his friends to show up anyway. Younghyun takes a deep breath,

“Listen, I know you’re a nice guy and all that, but you really didn’t have to be so mean. I think I’m a pretty good kisser. We were in seventh grade when it happened so you wouldn’t really know and—”

Wonpil stares at him, mouth agape. “Wait, why are you bringing up the kiss all of a sudden?”

 _Strange_.

“Because you said I’m a sloppy kisser. Also, I don’t always wear sports attire. You know it’s not allowed outside of the gym.” And then he brandishes his arms, emphasizing his khaki pants and buttoned coat — the school’s uniform for men.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Younghyun huffs. “It’s what you said in your letter. That I’m an egotistical athlete wannabe who makes out with any person I come across with.

Wonpil stiffens at the mention of a letter. He had written him one, but that was years ago. It couldn’t possibly be the one he is thinking of. “B-but I never wrote you any letter…”

He sends him a glare, something Wonpil did not expect from him. Though he thinks it’s probably out of frustration from his constant denial. “Yes you did. It was addressed to me, from you.”

And then Wonpil catches a glimpse of it, the pale blue envelope and the crisp white stationery that came with it. He can recognize the neat calligraphy at the back of the paper and the vintage stamps attached at the corner, because he owns the exact same set, bought from his favorite bookstore. And because _he_ wrote it. 

 

 

 _Oh no_.

 


	3. Intertwined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for taking too long with the update. but finally, here's the new chapter and there are tons of exciting stuff (i hope).
> 
> i've been reading all your comments too and i appreciate them all, so i hope you enjoy this one! ♡

“Where did you get that letter?” Wonpil tries to ask as calmly as possible, but he can feel the quiver in his voice with each word that leaves his lips. Younghyun’s expression softens to one of disbelief and Wonpil knows he was taken aback by the question, from the way his eyebrows creases together or how he hesitates to answer as if weighing in situation.

“It came in the mail yesterday.”

“To your house?”

Wonpil almost wants to smack his own head with how stupid his own question sounded, but he feels relief wash over him when Younghyun doesn’t say anything sarcastic in return. He finds it surprising even, how the male is quick to respond to his inquiries without posing his own questions. There were a lot of unspoken thoughts and queries, yet they treaded through it all one by one.

“Yeah, a postman delivered it to my house.”

He feels faint. Through the thick layer of his school uniform’s coat, he can almost hear his heart beating _too_ loudly and _too_ fast, and he hopes Younghyun doesn’t notice. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to wake up; this cannot be happening. It was a dream, he tells himself. A nightmare, if he were to be more precise, and in that moment, he decides he should burn those letters once this is over to make sure _no one_ would ever get their hands on his letters.

But when he opens his eyes, Younghyun is still staring at him with those beautiful brown eyes and he can almost feel himself drowning in their depths, until it sunk into him that none of it was a dream. It is all happening; Younghyun has his love letter, has read what he had written down, and is now aware of the feelings he used to hold for him. His mind begins to spin, dizzyingly fast and out of control, and it was Younghyun’s touch that keeps him from coming afloat and brings him down to reality.

“Wonpil? Are you okay?”

He is _not_ okay. He wishes nothing more but to faint, because at least then, he would not have to face Younghyun, or deal with the consequences. It could be like those teen romcoms he had seen on tv, where the female lead would pass out and gets taken to the hospital, and all the bad stuff would happen while she is unconscious. And by the time she wakes up, all will be fine, and she wouldn’t need to suffer the responsibility of facing people, of answering their question.

Except his life isn’t a movie. And if it were, it is the exact opposite of everything he had hoped for. Still, he needs to give answers and with the letter out in the open, there is no way for him to lie anymore.

“You should know that I wrote that letter years ago. Like, back in seventh grade.”

“Okay.”

“Seriously, that letter feels like a million years ago. I honestly don’t even remember what’s in it!” Now it wasn’t a complete lie, because when he writes his letters and seals them, there is no going back anymore. He writes them to forget, and that’s what he also does. _Forget_. But with Younghyun standing so close to him, he realizes that his face is not just handsome, but beautiful, and he remembers why he even wrote him the letter in the first place. He made his 13-year old heart race, but now, he makes it want to jump out of his chest.

“Look, I’m sorry if I stole your first kiss. I—”

Wonpil stands up to level his gaze — or at least tries to, and puts a hand up to prevent him from speaking any further. “It’s fine! That kiss? Ancient history! We’re done.”

“Okay Kim, whatever you say. But I’ll have you know that I’ve gotten much better at it since seventh grade.” Younghyun shrugs and Wonpil was speechless. His eyebrows furrow together in confusion; he didn’t need that information, not when he has a bigger problem that needs to be resolved. Still, it made him wonder and he pondered over his words for a moment, mind in a flurry of thoughts as he tries to imagine how much could have changed since that fateful night.

“Give me that letter,” he says and attempts to grab at the envelope on Younghyun’s hand, but the male has better reflexes — screw football players — and before Wonpil can register what was happening, he had his arm raised, letter at a height Wonpil would have never been able to reach.

“No can do, Kim. I’d like to keep this to myself,” he says; there was no hint of teasing in his voice as if he genuinely covets the piece of paper. “This is the first time anyone has ever written me a letter.”

By all means, Younghyun has the right to keep it. It is his, always was and always will be. But the cynic in Wonpil whispered deviously in his ears, telling him that allowing the letter to stay in his hands would mean bigger trouble. And he doesn’t need that, not when he’s already taken as a joke by the rest of the student population. If anyone finds out about the letter he had written for the most popular athlete in their year, he would be _over_ , and the thought itself pricked at his heart. He couldn’t let it happen, not again.

Despite the other male’s protests, he climbs higher onto the bleachers and grabs the letter, crumpling the neat page in his hand before stuffing it inside his coat, away from anyone else’s peering eyes. Younghyun actually looks disappointed, but he does not retaliate; instead, he raises both his hands in surrender and allows Wonpil to walk away, not once looking back.

 

 

Wonpil tucks himself in a quiet corner of the library, away from the rest of the students and the gaze of the librarian. He sits alone in a cubicle, the letter atop the desk, the pristine white page now frayed at the ends. He had been debating with himself whether to open it, because once he does, it would be as if he is returning to a chapter in his life that should have ended a long time ago. Younghyun might still be walking down the same halls as him, yet he is but a distant memory for him, a reminder of an important first and a friendship that dissipated, much like ink on water.

Yet he finds his fingers unfolding the sheet of paper, and it was as if his heart was opening to him again.

 

_Kang Younghyun,_

_I can never call you Hyunie now. You were supposed to be my friend, that person who would sneak into the back of the bleachers to eat our homecooked kimbap because the cafeteria food is terrible, or the one who would help me in my math homework because for some reason, you are so good at it. But then, we kissed, and nothing was ever the same._

_Did you know that when you said yes to that dare and kissed me, I would come to love you? Sometimes I would lie at night and think that you definitely did, because you are so into your head that you think EVERYONE loves you. And I hate it, because it’s nothing but the truth, and I hate it more about you because even I love you._

_But it’s all in the past now, just like that kiss. Because I don’t like you now; in fact, I even made a list of things I hate about you._

_First, you are so annoying. It can be so hard to talk to you seriously because you take everything in a light matter, or how you do that weird voice imitation whenever you repeat a word I just said. You just assume everyone finds it charming and if they don’t, you never care. But it’s all wrong, because you do care! And you care a lot about what people think of you when it shouldn’t be that way._

_But you outgrew that, because even when you got into the football team and in the cool kids’ group, you still joined choir to sing. You were never embarrassed to dance that dumb math dance and when some loser in class gets left without a partner in lab, you would come in like a superhero to save the day. And for some reason, it works because everyone is suddenly friends with them too, all because of you._

_You always take a piece of my lunch. And everyone else’s. I find it rude, but I let it pass because it gives me joy to see you eat so happily that even if I give you all of my food, I would still feel full from the sight of you alone._

_You are so good at everything, perhaps too good. I never believed anyone can be perfect, but sometimes, you make me think otherwise. You could have given other guys a chance to be good, but you never did. You are good in music, in your academics, and even in sports. I hate it that it’s so hard to find faults in you when I struggle everyday to find something to love about myself._

_You kissed me for no reason. You knew you could have said no, yet you still did. Because we’re just friends and it shouldn’t matter. You did it just because you could. And it made my first kiss feel not so special. All my life, I’ve been reading about first kisses, patiently waiting to feel the fireworks and butterflies in my stomach or hearing the sound of waves crashing in my ears. When you kissed me, I felt none of those._

_And the worst part of it all is that even when I felt nothing in that moment, that kiss is what made me start liking you. I never thought of you that way, you were just my friend. People always talk about you as being the best-looking boy in our grade and I agreed, but I just never saw the allure. There are plenty of good-looking boys, but that doesn’t make them interesting or intriguing. Yet one look at you after, a part of me started hoping maybe something more could happen, that something can bloom._

_The hardest part of it all is seeing you drift away, to a place I could never imagine of reaching. It was painful to watch you with Min, to hold her hands and kiss her in front of the crowd when all I could ever wish for then was for her to be me. You probably made her feel special, because that’s your talent. You’re so good at making people feel special and even I felt that way too. And then I ended up feeling so bad, so disappointed._

_Do you know what it’s like to love someone so much, you can’t stand it because you know they will never feel the same way? Probably not, because people like you don’t have to suffer through those kinds of things._

_It became easier to subdue what I felt after entering high school, because at least then, I didn’t have to think of you anymore. I have my friends, you have yours. I’m proud to say your charms won’t work on me anymore, because I had too much back then that I couldn’t take more of it now._

_I don’t have to worry about you, or my feelings for you, again. If anyone asks me to kiss you, I would probably turn it down, because you seem to be so sloppy in the game now. And I’m glad, because I can just say it disgusts me. If I’m going to like someone, they should at least be a good kisser, not like you._

_Love always and all ways,_

_Kim Wonpil._

 

 

He thought he had put everything about Younghyun behind, yet the moment _he_ mentioned their kiss, memories of the night he wrote the letter came flooding, every detail he had tried to push away and hide being conjured too easily. He had poured everything he had felt for him in the letter, his love immortalized in the blank ink staining the white paper. Still, he knows he was never entirely honest with himself, because when his mind begrudges Younghyun for stealing something that should have been important, his heart says otherwise.

He would have never cried while writing if it were nothing special, like he claimed.

And reading everything again, it continues to prick his heart. But Younghyun is just the beginning; what if his other letters were sent too? To his favorite barista Jinyoung,to Jackson Wang, to Youngjae from Homecoming.

 

 _To Sungjin_.

 

Wonpil leaps from his seat, causing the chair to scrape loudly over the granite floor and earning him a few looks. In that moment, the last thing he cared about are the rules. He prides himself in being a good student, someone who has perfect attendance and near-perfect scores. But today is an exception, because Wonpil finds himself dashing out of the library and school building, and to the nearest bus station.

Time seems to pass by too slowly for his liking, the scenery blurring to an uncomfortable hue in the background as he waits for his stop. When the familiar shed comes into view, he makes a run for it and dashes to their building as quickly as his legs could take him. No one was home, which made him feel relieved. After all, he failed to prepare his excuse if his father sees him home before the usual time.

The first place he looks into is under his bed, but the teal gift box that holds his letters is nowhere to be seen. He searches through every nook and cranny his hands can slip into, from under his desk to the top of his closet shelf. Still, no signs of his gift box.

When he seats himself on his bed, it begins to set in him that his love letters are out there, waiting to be delivered. If his heart was only racing earlier, it was hammering so loudly in that instance, much like a pounding that he cannot simply ignore. But there was nothing else he can do; he can’t call his sister because then, she’d know there is trouble at home. He couldn’t bear to give her that burden when she just began college and when he promised he will take care of everything for her.

Tired and dejected, he lets sleep take over him.

 

 

He wakes up to a tap on his shoulder. When he peals his eyes open, Dowoon is looking down on him, arms crossed over his chest. He sits up and rubs his bleary eyes to will the sleep away.

“Sungjin hyung is looking for you,” his brother tells him. He feels himself stiffen.

There was no way he can face Sungjin right now. He isn’t ready and he doesn’t intend to be. He would have to face him at one point, but if he can prolong the inevitable, then he would. But he had no way out; he couldn’t just jump off their floor or run through the front door when he is most likely waiting on the other side of it. He is trapped, with nowhere else to go and no one else to lean but. But Dowoon is also here, so he clasps onto his brother’s hands and looks up at him, eyes pleading yet hoping it wouldn’t open the room for questions.

“Please tell him I’m sick and that I can’t see him right now.” He _begs_ ; it was a rare sight because he never would have done it, especially not to Dowoon, and his brother’s own surprised expression could attest to it. They bicker, sure, and Wonpil is known to dote on his younger brother a lot. But he never asks for favor that way, not when he tries to mediate the two — and yet here he is.

 “Please, Dowoon.”

The male doesn’t say anything when he walks away, the loud ‘click’ of his door the only sound reverberating through his quiet room, but when he does return to call Wonpil for dinner later, he smiles at him in reassurance. There is no Sungjin waiting for him. He has time.

Their father doesn’t raise questions over the lack of Sungjin’s presence during dinner, but Wonpil can feel his gaze straying to him every now and then. He tries to lighten the mood by engaging Dowoon in a conversation about the latest drum models despite having very few knowledges on the subject matter, but when Wonpil continues to pick on his half-eaten food, he lowers his chopsticks and clears his throat.

“Anything the matter, Pil?”

He elicits a deep sigh. “Have you seen my teal gift box?”

“What box?” It was visible in his father’s expression, how his eyebrows crease together in thought.

“The gift box mom gave me!”

“Oh, that.” He murmurs, still obviously confused. “I’m not sure, Pil. It might have gone with the boxes of our donations to Goodwill.”

Wonpil feels himself becoming dizzyingly sick for the second time that day. He already has no appetite and the meager amount of food he had manage to swallow down is rising to throat, along with the bitter bile, and he visibly pales. He doesn’t want to cry, but he can still feel the prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes.

His distraught façade does not escape his father’s notice. “Pil, don’t worry about the box. I’ll get you a new one and if there are any collections inside of it, we can replace it.”

But that wasn’t enough for him.

“I don’t care about losing any part of my collection. That gift box was given to me by mom. It means a lot to me and now look at what you’ve done!”

Wonpil never loses his cool and very rarely does he fight with his father, but he has had a long day and would have an even longer week if the letters came to the wrong hands. He has no intention to keep the conversation going, so he excuses himself to his room and shuts the door with a loud thud.

He doesn’t remember hearing Dowoon enter later that evening until he feels the warmth on his back and an arm wrapping around his waist. He doesn’t fight him or try to wriggle his way out his hold, and instead, pulls the duvet over his brother’s figure as well. “Dad said he’ll try to look for your gift box tomorrow,” his brother informs him, before he snuggles closer to him. Wonpil could only sigh, but he does let himself relax in his brother’s embrace while waiting for sleep to come to him the second time.

 

 

Wonpil wakes up to 20 new messages from Sungjin and 10 missed calls. They all bear the same “ _Can I talk to you?_ ” except for the last one, a “ _Please call me_ ” that heavily hints of imploring. Yet he ignores them, opting to delete all recent logs in his phone before waking Dowoon up. Today still would not be _that_ day, and even though he has a higher chance of bumping into him at school, they are not in the same class, which means there is still less chance of being cornered for a conversation.  And when they are out in the hallways it’s easier to get lost in the crowd, to fall into step with their own respective groups. 

Consequently, he drags Dowoon out of the house half an hour earlier than the usual time they leave for school, all because he doesn’t want to see Sungjin in the elevator or walk with him to class. His brother did not pose any questions, which made him feel grateful; he needed the silence, the peace of mind to sort his thoughts out, and when they do part ways, Dowoon asks if they can go to their favorite café after class. Wonpil happily obliges, with the promise of treating him out for cake.

He manages to successfully avoid him through the morning, not even catching a glimpse of him once as he passes by the male’s classroom. Even through lunch, there were no signs of him in the cafeteria as he and Jaehyung go through their packed food, the other male forgoing the topic of Sungjin’s absence despite their newly-settled routine of eating together. He felt at ease, but he was perhaps too comfortable that he failed to notice someone’s longing stares from across the room.

But parting ways with Jaehyung was the biggest mistake he had made.

Most of the time, they would walk together to their next class, but Jaehyung needed to be somewhere and urged him to go first in case he takes longer than expected. He uses that time to arrange his belongings, his backpack feeling a lot heavier than he is used to. He is at his locker, busily putting away his textbooks when he hears someone clearing his throat.

“Pil, can I talk to you?” He knows that voice from anywhere and he can feel the dread slowly creeping into him, the coldness taking over every inch of his nerves until he is left frozen and unmoving. He wills himself to take a deep breath before turning to the direction of the sound, a small smile plastered on his face.

“Hey Sungjin, what do you want to talk about?” He tries to answer with as much nonchalance, but the expression the other male is wearing makes his voice quiver. It is a mixture of confusion and sternness, one that makes Wonpil wish the ground could swallow him up instead of having to face him.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you since last night, but Dowoon said you were sick and you weren’t answering any of my calls or messages,” he says, before raising a hand, a familiar blue envelope on it. “What is this?”

Wonpil tries to feign ignorance. “I don’t know…”

“Is this from you?” Sungjin asks again, his tone more serious now. He does not raise his voice, but it holds enough clarity to set Wonpil into thinking straight; beating around the bush will do him no good anymore, so he takes the letter from Sungjin’s hands and examines the neat calligraphy in the back. One glance and he is sure Sungjin would know he had written it.

“Where did you even get this?”

“It came in the mail yesterday morning,” he answers. “But don’t change the subject. The letter, it’s from you right?”

Wonpil meets his gaze. “Listen, I wrote this a _long_ time ago. I don’t even remember its content.”

“Right… but you mentioned Jieun and college in a post script, and that was only a few weeks ago.”

He does not respond and instead, bites into his bottom lips, willing the glassiness in his eyes away. He got caught and he feels like crying because now, Sungjin knows — not just about his feelings for him, but about Jieun as well. But he wouldn’t do that, not when it would make the situation worse than it already is. He needs to be calm and cool, to remain unperturbed as if his secrets do not matter anymore in the grand scheme of things.

But the way Sungjin is looking at him so strongly makes his thoughts go into disarray that he could only look away. The male takes his silence as a sign to pose more questions, about the letter and about _them_. Where do they stand now? All this time, he viewed him as a friend, someone to lean on at times of need and despair. He never knew the younger male would ever harbor romantic feelings for him — and if he still does.

“So then, did you… or do you still, you know, have feelings for me?”

Wonpil shrugs at the question. “I mean, yes, I did like you at one point. But that was before you and Jieun started dating. It shouldn’t matter now because I don’t see you that way anymore.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything though?” Sungjin’s expression softens, his voice only above a whisper. “Because… well, I don’t know. But this whole thing? It’s crazy and I just feel so blindsided. What happened to being honest with each other?”

Wonpil notes that in spite of his confusion, Sungjin is more hurt than anything. It is clear in his eyes, the way he’s looking at him bringing him back to the summer where Sungjin confessed to liking Jieun. Except that time, it was Wonpil who was bearing the same expression as if the spark in him slowly waned. It made him nervous and even now, when everything seems to be doing a repeat, he could still feel his heart race and the cold sweat over his palms. He knows Sungjin would say more, but he doesn’t need to hear it. He doesn’t _want_ to.

“It’s because I’m dating someone.”

Sungjin’s jaw goes slack, his eyebrows creasing in obvious confusion. When Wonpil realizes what he just said, he mentally scolds himself. He has so many lies already, and he doesn’t need a new one, especially one that would be hard to keep from Sungjin’s own prying eyes. Yet he carries on, because in that moment, he believed it was the only rational thing to say without divulging more of his feelings for Sungjin.

“Yeah, it’s true. I started dating someone and I really, _really_ like him. So please, don’t worry about the letter anymore.” He raises the piece of paper and holds onto it as if it were just a piece of trash and not a monologue where he poured his feelings into. He carefully stuffs it inside his bag, away from Sungjin and anyone who could possibly get their hands on it, before facing the male again. “Sungjin, I promise you, that letter does not mean anything anymore. I wrote it in a haze and as you can see, my judgement was cloudy at that time. So please, can we stop talking about it? I don’t want Jieun to find out.”

Sungjin — surprisingly — nods in understanding. “Okay, I won’t talk about it anymore.”

“Do you promise?”

The male makes a cross sign over his heart, just the way they used to do when they were younger. It reassures Wonpil that a small smile draws on his lips.

“I promise, Pil. I mean, Jieun and I haven’t even talked since that night.”

Wonpil lets out a huge breath, something he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. “Great, thank you Sungjin.” He nods and turns to shut his locker door. He was about to walk away when Sungjin grabs on his arm, preventing him from going any further.

“Who is he?”

“What?”

“The person you’re dating. Who is he?”

For what seemed to be the nth time that day, Wonpil feels his whole body become numb. He didn’t think that far, and he couldn’t just randomly drop a name. Surely, Sungjin would immediately find out he’s lying. He could say it’s Jaehyung, but knowing him, he would never buy the lie.

 

And that’s when he sees him — _Kang Younghyun_.

 

They meet each other’s gaze from across the hall and before Wonpil could even process what he is doing, he is striding over to him, only stopping when they are almost bumping into each other’s chests. Younghyun’s expression holds both confusion and wonder and on where Wonpil stands, he looks so much taller, so much more intimidating. It makes his heart race and he can feel his knees weaken, but the adrenaline has him winding his arms around his neck to pull him down.

 And then in the next moment, they are kissing.

Younghyun’s lips still feel the way he remembers: soft and plump and warm, and the through the proximity they share, Wonpil could smell his intoxicating cologne — sweet, but laden with a hint of aftershave musk. His heart is beating so fast that he forgets his fears, because then it registers in his mind that Younghyun is kissing him back with just as much fervor, his hands finding their way on his small waist. He wishes Sungjin is watching them.

When they break apart, he is breathless and lightheaded, a pink blush growing on the apple of his cheeks. He swears he sees a smile on Younghyun’s face, but before he can even fully deduce it, he is pulling himself away from his hold. The warmth of his lips on his and his hands still linger.

 

“I’ll see you later,” he murmurs and then he is sprinting off in the opposite direction. 


End file.
